


Look Behind You

by Jay Trent (Bluewolf458)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Jay%20Trent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange man has moved into a run-down area...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look Behind You

John Smith was a solitary man who nodded politely to his neighbours when he saw them, even muttered "Morning" or "Evening" as he passed them, but never stopped to chat.

Not that his appearance encouraged anyone to try.

Although neatly enough trimmed, his beard was so heavy it effectively hid his lower face. Strange, then, that he kept his hair cropped short. The contrast between beard and hair gave his head a faintly upside-down appearance. The rest of his face - the little that could be seen of it, just his nose, upper cheeks and forehead - was a weatherbeaten brown. Nor was it easy to guess at his age; he could have been anything from thirty to sixty, but the consensus among his neighbours, when they discussed him, was that he was older, rather then younger.

Rumour concerning him was rife - and often contradictory. When nobody knows anything about someone as enigmatic as Smith, 'facts' will be invented; starting with 'Do you suppose that...', moving through 'Mary (David) heard that... ' to 'Of course, everyone knows that...'

Nobody knew where he worked - or even _if_ he worked, although he left his house regularly every morning, Monday to Friday, at exactly 8 am - if Andrew Morris was still standing at the bus stop when Smith walked briskly past, he knew that either it was running very late, or he'd missed the 7.55 bus. 

He arrived home, again walking, at exactly 6.30 pm - except on a Friday, when he arrived a variable time later, carrying several plastic bags that bore the name of one of the supermarkets - not always the same one, as if he had no particular preference when it came to buying his week's groceries.

He was never seen at the weekend.

He had appeared a few months previously, almost unnoticed, carrying a single suitcase, to take possession of a small furnished flat, the owner of which had died two or three years previously, leaving the house to his daughter. Living in her own house in another, more respectable, part of town, she had decided to use it to give herself an additional income - it was, in any case, doubtful if she could have sold it, since it was in an area that had been marginally 'good' twenty years previously but had slipped inexorably into slumdom during those years. None of her tenants had stayed for long; Smith was the tenth, at least - the neighbours had lost count - and his six-month occupation of the flat was by far the longest.

Two of the local teenagers, brothers who led the local gang and who considered themselves 'tough guys', had once threatened him, looking for protection money, soon after he moved into the area; he had simply taken a step forward, and clearly untroubled by age - if he _was_ nearer sixty than thirty - wrapped an arm around each, picked them up, one tucked under each arm, and ignoring both their struggles and the threats they uttered had, apparently effortlessly, carried them home - though nobody knew how he knew where they lived. Since both hands were occupied he kicked on the door, and when their father - who _was_ one of the neighbourhood tough men, unlike his wannabe sons - answered it, had dropped the two at his feet. "This is the only chance I'll give them," he said quietly, the menace in his voice all the more terrifying for his very calmness. "If they - or any of their friends - try to attack me again, I won't pull any punches." He looked down at the two boys who, in the presence of their father, had subsided into silence. "I'm not looking for trouble; but if you start something aimed at me, expect me to finish it." With that, he swung round and strode off without waiting for an answer. 

It had taken the boys over a week to regain their 'superiority' over the others in their gang. They had, more than once, considered setting the entire gang on the man, sure that force of numbers would defeat him and restore their damaged pride; and if Smith had ever been seen outside at night, they might have indeed done so. Once he returned home, however, Smith remained indoors. He never visited the local pub, was never seen going to the pictures - he simply remained indoors.

Nor did he ever have any visitors; there was no way he could be got at through his friends. It appeared that he had none.

***

There was no doubting that the fire which destroyed the building in which Smith lived was arson. and arson meant to kill.

It was Smith who raised the alarm, Smith who, when the stairway turned out to have been blocked halfway between the first floor and the ground, took the residents from the upper levels into his flat, and encouraged them to escape by sliding down a rope he had fastened to a heavy piece of furniture beside the window. Following them down, he had urged the last of them to get to the other side of the road as the fire engines turned into the street, and had then disappeared. Nobody saw him go. 

Everyone locally was certain the fire had been set by the brothers he had humiliated six months previously. The brothers realised that Smith believed it too, when their mother found the note next morning pinned to the inside of the door of their house.

Unsigned, it said simply, "I warned you once. You didn't listen. I'll be coming after you. It might be next week, next month, next year or ten years from now. 

"You had better watch your backs."

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is ostensibly original fiction, it was planned as the beginning of a Professionals story, with Bodie living undercover. However, this is as much of it as was written, and after seven years I really can't see me expanding it.


End file.
